In Sickness
by LoweFantasy
Summary: Kai is a lot like an injured, wild animal when he's sick. The exotic kind you're afraid to touch in case he might bite off your hand...or run away. HilxKai, commissioned by Nevergonnafindme
1. Sick

In Sickness

By LoweFantasy

Commissioned by Nevergonnafindme

1

Back in the beginning, when I had first tried wiggling myself into Tyson's little group without entirely understanding why, I had thought getting up at the crack of dawn and jogging would help give me ideas for training regimes. I guess I had figured that if I did it, the boys would be more likely to do it.

Surprise surprise, there's actually more than one crazy person who gets up at 5:30 to run. Most of them were the string bean health types and athletes. No one was my age. For some reason, that made me uncomfortable. I had already come to terms with the fact that I had an easier time getting along with adults than kids my own age. And having such a hard time getting Tyson and the others to accept me as a real friend, not just as one of the many nice acquaintances polite people have, had made me more insecure than ever.

Maybe that's why I had been trying so hard. Because Tyson wasn't the type for acquaintances, but threw his whole self in, body and soul. That kind of stuff only existed in stories, especially in the adult world I had unwittingly thrown myself in to with my efforts to be responsible and dependable.

So, self-conscious as I was, I found myself being drawn to the less perfect rock beaches for my jogs. It was strange for me even then to want to be alone, when I was always so afraid of being just that.

And that's where I had found Kai.

I don't know if he knew I had seen him. He had been running along the edge of the tide, where sand met gravel. His shirt hung out of his cargo jean pocket and water arched up with each step, leaving a curtain of water drops hanging in the pink dawn light and sprinkling gold drops on his bare shoulders and chest. His hair had been flyaway crazy, and a part of me wondered if his eyes would look just as wild.

Though I had made a habit of going there for my runs, I never saw him again. Kai lived up to his elusive reputation. I learned soon enough that it was like sighting some endangered species of cat to catch him in the middle of his morning training.

I remembered that along with that impression of a rare, elusive beast as I more or less dropped a wet Kai onto Tyson's bed.

I shook the thought out of my head and instead got caught between whether or not I'd have to take off his wet clothes.

Of course he tried to stand up, but he hadn't even been able to walk here without my help, so that didn't go too far. He did seem aware enough to realize he was getting Tyson's bed soaked.

"Why am I here?" he grumbled.

"Because you just vomited everything you've eaten since you were 12 and your burning up and it's pouring outside. Why didn't you say anything? Why did you even come to Tyson's stupid party if you were sick?"

He didn't say anything, nor did he look up at me. He did, however, managed to scoot to the edge of the mattress, as though intent to have as little of himself touching it as possible. I watched him hang there, elbows on his knees, shivering so hard he seemed to vibrate, before I managed to get the foaming, screaming freak in my stomach to shut up. I knelt down in front of him. Before he could protest, or I lose my nerve, I put a hand to his forehead.

Whoa. It was almost as though he had gotten out of a boiling shower, not a cold storm.

To my surprise, he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

"You're head hurt?" I asked.

Since Kai never admitted to pain, he said nothing. I took my hand back reluctantly.

"You need to get out of your wet clothes."

Nothing. Though he did let out the smallest of groans.

"Please don't make me strip you myself."

"Just let me leave," he mumbled, so soft I barely heard him.

"Sure. Right. Good luck with that. Strip."

I counted to sixty. When he just remained there, eyes closed, shivering, I steeled myself and reached down to the edges of his shirt. I ended up having to put my head over his shoulder to reach. His wet hair swallowed half of my face and neck and he flinched as I made contact with his heated skin. He made some sort of wacky, uncoordinated jerk to get away, but only managed to slump harder against me, so he nearly folded completely in half when I pulled the shirt over his head.

He smelled of well loved, worn cotton blankets and some indefinable, incense-like musk. If plaid flannel had a smell, it would probably be Kai.

My face was as hot as his fever when I finally got his shirt in my hands. It wasn't like I hadn't seen the boys shirtless before, but Kai, well…

He had _nice_ shoulders.

"I-I'm going to get you some medicine," I managed. "Please don't make me take off y-your pants when I come back, or I swear I'm telling everyone, and that includes Tyson."

That got Kai's attention. He shot me a half-dazed, glassy glare.

"I didn't ask for your help," he growled, teeth bared and everything.

I sighed. Wild animal indeed.

Since I wasn't too worried about him diving out into the storm to stumble his way home—wherever that was—I left him there and went in the kitchen to see what I could find. I scrounged through what little medical knowledge I had and pulled out some ginger root, garlic, and a small bit of white rice which I set to simmer on the stove for a bit. His stomach would be too sensitive for any of the pain killers that were also fever reducers. And besides, fevers were technically one of the body's immune response to kill stuff. They only got bad if they went for too long or got too high.

"Maybe some milk?" I thought aloud, just to decide against it. This wasn't a deal of stomach acid, but probably of inflammation, and lactose would not mix well with that.

I returned with a bowl of cold water to find Kai with his eyes closed and his back against the end of Tyson's bed wearing a too short pair of his friend's sweats. They were dry, though, and at least he had managed to tie them up. His chest was still on display.

Insides squirming, face hot, I tugged out the first T-shirt I found and jammed it over his drowsy head. As before, he jerked to alertness, but had the space of mind to not fight me.

"What are you—get off me," he grouched through the cotton.

"Then you shouldn't have been half naked," I grouched back. "Bed."

"Go away."

"Sure," I tugged up on his arm.

Despite the sickly glare and the tightening fists, he did his best to get up. And because the situation wasn't awkward enough for the universe, he lost his balance while half of his weight was on me. Thankfully, we fell backwards on the bed and not the floor, and he didn't land on me. Just next to me with his chest flushed against mine and his face in my hair. Like him being taller than me helped any.

Both of us pushed apart as though electrocuted. He made a loud grunt of irritation, but didn't sit up with me. He just laid there, with his legs dangling off the end. The way he scowled up at me said he blamed me for his situation. Weak, feverish, and trapped by a too soft bed. Mean, mean Hillary.

I had to smile at that. "Am I going to have to pull you up to the pillow too?"

" _Go away_."

"Not until you get in bed properly. Covers don't work right if you're legs are hanging over the footboard."

"I just need a nap and I'll be fine." But his eyes said 'Haven't you done enough? Do you want to die?'

"Then you won't mind being warm for said nap, huh?"

Another grunt, this one of frustration (really, half his language was in grunts), and heaved himself up. He even went so far as to get himself under the covers, giving the big wet patch on the side of the bed where he had sat before a wide birdth.

More glaring. The almost glowing blotches of red on his cheeks didn't help his case. Nor did the fluffy comforter pulled up to his chin.

Doing my best not to smile again (I'd learned a long time ago that boys didn't like being smiled at when they were down), I went off just to return with a towel, which I attacked his head with. He'd been mostly asleep already, but he must have decided it wasn't worth the effort to bark at me as I dried his soaked head and flipped over the pillow.

Figuring I'd done enough, I closed the door behind me and went to check on the broth.


	2. Fever

2

Tyson was hovering over the pot, a spoon already half way in.

"Don't you dare!"

He jumped, dropping the spoon.

"Jeeze, Hillary! You need a cat bell or something."

"Step away from the soup."

"But it's cold! And I'm soaked and starving—you wouldn't want me to get sick like Kai, would you?"

I stomped a foot forward and he scurried back, dark eyes reproachful.

"The one time you seem to make something palpable," he muttered.

"It's for _Kai_. If you're so hungry, make your own food, or better yet, see if Ray's up to making dinner tonight." Speaking of which…I fished out the dropped spoon from the broth and looked around. "Where are they? Didn't they come back with you?"

After Kai had thrown up and collapsed, the three had been about ready to cart him off to the hospital. The mixture of horror, misery, and humiliation on Kai's face had been enough to prompt me to suggest the others stay behind on the beach to clean up the remains of their ruined party while I 'escorted' Kai back to the dojo. Oh, Kai tried to escape, and he probably would have made it even if I hadn't been attached to his arm like an overgrown leech, but, alas, whatever it was he had now had sucked him of energy. I already had it in mind to get him to the hospital anyways if he got worse, whether he wanted it or not.

"Max's Dad called him home for some reason and Ray left with him." Tyson flipped back some wet hair with a disapproving snort. "Their teammate's down and they just abandon him. Some friends. You know they even invited me? Like I'm going to leave Kai when he needs me."

"If you're going to end up eating his soup, maybe you should have," I said darkly.

Tyson stared. "It's my house!"

"And this is _Kai_ we're talking about! Why do you think he didn't say a word about how he was feeling?"

"Easy. Because he's a prideful, arrogant jerk who likes to deal with everything on his own and doesn't give a crap what his body tells him." Tyson paused, his frown softening and eyes widening. "Why did he come? I mean…" With a closed mouth huff, he threw his hands behind his head. "Screw it. Whenever I try to figure out Kai, I end up just making things worse. I promise I won't eat his stupid broth, so would you please make me a sandwich or something? You can't screw that up."

I whirled my spoon at him, flinging boiling hot liquid with it. Tyson jumped out of range with a shout.

"I'm not your woman. Make your own damn sandwich."

"But, come on, Hill, I can't cook."

"You just said you can't screw up a sandwich," then, at the reproachful, kicked puppy look, I sighed. "If you can find any leftover rice, maybe I can fry that up for you—"

"On second thought, I'll just make that sandwich."

I threw my hands into the air. Finally give the guy a concession and he just uses it to insult me. Why were we even friends?

But he did have a point. It was kind of weird that Ray and Max would have flown the coup so quickly. They had this big slumber after party planned. Maybe they had thought it better to give Kai some space. But a whole house was a lot of space—and what about me? Sure, I was a girl, but…scratch that. My mom had put a stop to my participation in Tyson's slumber parties when I had turned 16. Apparently crazy orgies or sex in general wasn't a temptation before then, but whatever.

Tyson did his usual grumbling as he pulled out his sandwich ingredients and smacked them together.

"I hate sandwiches," he said.

"Didn't think you hated any kind of food," I said.

"I'm not so much of a glutton that I'd eat anything," he said morosely, as though the prospects of his coming sandwich was a funeral of a stranger he had to go to. "It's whatever grandpa makes whenever he doesn't feel like cooking, which is, like, all the time. And then it's the only thing I know how to make besides rice balls."

That made me feel a little guilty. I looked back down at my broth and sighed.

"There's probably enough for two in here," I said.

He shrugged. "Nah. It's fine."

Now that was weird. Tyson turning down food. "Are you okay?"

He waved a hand at me, squashing down the tall sandwich with his other hand. "Yeah."

I took a closer look at him as he turned, holding his sandwich up to his mouth with resignation. He leaned back against the counter, a leg crossed over the other, with dark wet hair plastered about his face.

I blinked. "Maybe you should have some. You're soaked. You should get out of those wet clothe before you get sick too."

Tyson swallowed and gave me a sidelong glance. "Shouldn't the same go to you?"

I glanced down at myself and flushed. My shirt was still damp enough to stick to some of the outlines of my bra. Thank whatever gods were out there that it wasn't white. But now that Tyson was pointing it out, I realized I _was_ cold. Freezing, really. I put my cold fingers to my cheeks, as though to verify it. Had I been that caught up in Kai I hadn't noticed?

I flicked off the burner and dug out two mugs. Tyson chewed his sandwich in silence. Another strange thing, though not uncomfortable. I poured out the broth and pushed one to him. He raised an eyebrow at it, but muttered a thank you and took it.

I took up Kai's mug and watched him for a moment longer, enjoying the heat on my frosty fingers.

"Okay, really, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh my gosh, woman, I'm just sitting here eating a sandwich, why do you think somethings wrong?"

"Because I'm your friend and I know you, duh, so spit it out."

"You could be a bit more gentle than that, can't you?"

"I could, but then you'd ignore me. I know you, Tyson Granger. When you let your problems stay inside you make a huge, dramatic scene later when it all blows out of proportion."

A muscle above his eyebrow ticked. "Wow, jee, you're so flattering."

So I just sat back, waiting, and stared at him. That got him twitching.

Finally, he took down his mug and sighed, and I saw his breath poof across it as steam.

"I don't really know myself," he said, not looking at me. "I guess…I'll tell you later, yeah?"

But now I was really worried. He didn't look right. He looked…sad. Tyson sad was about as rare as Max getting sad. He more often just got mad.

In the quiet without the hiss of the gas stove, rain pattered on the roof and ran in waves down the kitchen window. A low hum of wind sung through the eves, laying something comforting and homey over us. It was delicious. Safe.

Oh yeah. This was why we were friends.

Putting Kai's mug down, I crossed the space between us and carefully put my arms around his waist. It reminded me a lot of hugging my father before he had gone to America for good.

"Hill?"

"Whatever it is, it'll all work out. Kay?"

He put a hand on my head to push me away, but seemed to change his mind and moved it around me instead in an awkward, one arm, sideways hug, having to keep a hold on his own mug.

"Thanks. You know, if you showed this nice side more often you probably wouldn't scare away the boys so much."

That earned him a light smack on the shoulder. He was smiling again, at least.

"Key word here is 'boys," I said, flashing him my cheekiest smile as I stepped away. "A real man, on the other hand, wouldn't be so easily frightened."

He snorted, but it was fondly. "Oh, please. You seriously don't understand the terror of a Hillary on a rampage."

"Better stop there before you ruin the moment."

"Yeah yeah. Need me to take that to Kai? It would suck if you got what he has."

"Too late. He's already panted all over me."

It took me a second longer than it should have to figure out why Tyson was grinning at me like that. I smacked him again.

"Seriously?" I hissed.

"You said it!" He dropped his mug in the sink. "Not that you would mind Kai panting all over you, huh?"

Despite his stupid, teasing smirk, I felt rolls of heat rolling up to my face that I so did not want to be there. Hopefully I kept my expression straight and unamused.

"How about 'no?' No one in their right mind would fall in love with that aloof statue. Not unless they wanted to die from heartbreak and neglect." I picked up Kai's mug, but hesitated. "Does he even like girls?"

To my chagrin, Tyson shrugged.

"Never let us know he had any interest in one. But you know Kai. He'd probably shove any feelings he got deep as deep can get until they petrified from lack of sunlight. It's like pulling teeth just to get him to admit we're friends, let alone that he needs anyone other than himself."

And, as usual, I couldn't help thinking how lonely that sounded.


	3. Delirium

3

When I opened the door, I found Kai hadn't stayed where I had left him. In fact, I almost smacked him in the face with said door.

But since I'm not that lucky, he just stumbled back and pawed to the wall to keep his balance.

"Kai Hiwatari!" It took all my self control not to throw the mug at him. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? Just lay down, for Pete's—EEP!"

His sweaty face fell onto my shoulder. It might have been sweet if it wasn't for the fact he had chosen to use me as a crutch as well.

A drop of his sweat crawled down my shirt.

I fought to stay upright, throwing my free hand out to the wall and fighting to keep his mug up high.

"Ty—Tyson!" I croaked. I could feel my knees giving out.

A hot hand slid up my hip and side, then circle about to weakly hook around my lower back.

"Hill…" came Kai's sickly croak. "You're…you're cold."

Oh crud, now Kai's knees were going out. " _Tyson!_ " Where was that boy?

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Hold your—" Tyson's heavy foot falls stopped behind me. "Uh—"

"He's crushing me—I'm going to spill-!"

"Yeah! Right!" Tyson came round and, after a split second of indecision, took hold of the Kai arm that wasn't wrapped about my waist. He tried to get his shoulder under the taller boy, but Kai seemed intent on taking me with him. Boiling hot broth splashed onto my hand.

Kai tried to shrug Tyson off. As he turned to give the other boy a half-lidded glare, whatever had been keeping him from collapsing—besides me—gave out and Tyson caught him under his armpits. I managed to slip out of Kai's now failing grip.

"Go away," said Kai.

"I'll be glad to if you start molesting me too," Tyson grunted, dragging Kai towards the bed.

I hurriedly put the mug down to help him, but Kai's irritation reached breaking level and he shoved Tyson as hard as his feverish arms would let him. Tyson stumbled back into the night stand, knocking the mug of broth free and onto the floor.

And, of course, Kai still couldn't stand, so he just wilted besides the bed like a rag doll. Somehow he was still coherent enough to lean over towards me, where he proceeded to wrap an arm about my leg and rest his sweaty face against my thigh. There he gave a relieved, happy little sigh.

Tyson looked from the spilled broth to Kai's half-Kola position on my leg, gapping.

"I need a camera," he shoved off from the bed and towards his desk. "No one's going to believe this. Oh gall, this is great. The things I'll make him do!"

I, on the other hand, was not so gleeful. A full on body blush had taken me whole.

"So much for my carefully constructed soup," I muttered.

Kai scooted a little closer with another sigh, smearing sweat along the bit of my thigh not covered by my shorts. The top of his borrowed shirt had already become soaked with sweat, and his touch burned with the strength of his fever.

Cautiously, still blushing, I reached down to brush my fingers across his brow and into his hairline.

"He feels really hot…" I said, stomach clenching.

"Don't move!" Tyson bunny hopped back in front of us, a thin digital camera in hand.

"Tyson—" The camera's flash cut me off, momentarily blinding me. "Hey! Don't you think it's just a little unfair to be taking a picture of your friend while he's down like this?"

"Not when he wastes your first edible meal while I'm still hungry."

Ugh, I so didn't have the patience for this. "If you're going to be a jerk, just leave."

"Aw, come on—"

"Shoo!"

"But I said I would help! At least let me get him into bed—"

"If you want to help, find some stomach medicine and Gatorade or something."

Tyson's eyebrows rose. "And leave you with Captain Fever-Perv?"

"Oh my gosh, all he's done is lean on my leg and put his forehead on my shoulder, that hardly counts as sexual harassment, so will you go already?"

Tyson rolled his eyes. Then, so quickly the sickly Kai didn't even have time to protest, he hefted the Russian's lower half onto the bed, leaving me heaving up his upper half. It did leave the problem that now Kai's feet were resting on his pillow, but Kai didn't seem to care in the slightest. His sweaty hand had slipped from my leg, but had felt its way back to my side, where his fingers curled themselves up into my shirt.

Tyson glared at the hand.

"Look, I'll get the medicine, but I don't see why you have to stay here. I mean, what are you going to—"

As though on cue, Kai threw up. At least he didn't have much left in his stomach and managed to aim it away from my leg.

As Kai groaned in utmost, delirious misery, I gave Tyson my best dead pan stare.

"That answer your question?" I asked.

Tyson, his nose wrinkled up and his expression looking rather sick now too, jerked a shoulder in defeat and headed out, but not without taking another picture, which got him a kick in the backside. Honestly.

And left me with a moaning Kai clutching my shirt in a small pool of sick.

I sighed. So much for any chance for the famous romantic sick episode.

Kai had actually shoved off the soiled comforter when I came back with a rag, so I just gave it to him to clean off his face and went to put the blanket in the wash. But once I'd done that, Kai had dozed off again, bits of ick on the corner of his mouth and cheek still and rag hanging from his hand. So, as carefully as I could, I took the rag, cleaned his face, and dug out another quilt to throw over him.

I had thought him completely out, but his roaming hand somehow found my shirt again while I was making sure all of him was covered.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His blotched, sweaty face had scrunched up in pain. If I didn't know better, I would say he looked like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry."

"You're just sick. Were you trying to make it to the bathroom to throw up? Was that why you were up?"

He said nothing, but pulled on my shirt. I humored him and leaned closer, ignoring how my heart sped up. It didn't mean anything. He was just sicker than I had ever seen anyone in my life—who weren't in the hospital, that is.

I reached up for his forehead again, this time comparing it to my own. I bit my lip at the difference. "Maybe we should call the hospital."

His eyes shot open and he curled around his fistful of my shirt. "No! No doctors."

"Kai, you're really sick."

"I'll be okay. I'm fine, I'm fine, I just need—I just need to sleep."

"And I'll be glad to let you if you let go."

His hand loosened, and for the first time a semblance of clarity seemed to come on his face.

"I didn't…what?"

I sighed. "Would you like a cold rag for your head?"

"I didn't mean to…grab your shirt—that was your shirt?"

I almost smiled. I had never heard Kai sound so vulnerable and bemused before. Taking it as a yes, I squeezed a rag from the bowl of cold water I had brought in before and, after hesitating for a bit, gently wiped the sweat from his face before folding it across his forehead. He let out a shaky breath at the touch and his eyes closed.

"That's right," I found myself murmuring. "Just relax. You don't need to go anywhere. I'll bring in a bowl in case you need to throw up again, yeah?"

"Okay…" his voice had gotten so small, almost childlike.

Despite what I had said, I lingered, caught in the crossfire of rather overwhelming emotions. I was aching, burning, and oddly content all in one, which didn't make any sense with all my concern and pity.

I had always known I had liked him; liked him more than I should or even wanted to. But touching his face, hearing him so weak and open, I couldn't help but tremble. I wanted to somehow engulf him in my arms and take all his aches and pains away. I even thought that I'd be happier suffering in his place if it would save him from it.

By the time I realized I was doing it, I had already leaned down. Eyes burning, I slowly, gingerly, placed a feather light kiss on his hot brow.

"Everything will be okay," I said softly. "I won't let anything happen to you. Just be as sick as you need to be."


	4. Contagious

4

Whatever Kai had, I definitely caught.

Kai recovered quickly for how bad he had been and was allowed to finish recovering at his place (wherever that was) after two days. In those two days, I kept my word, whether he had heard it or not, and stayed over to make sure Tyson didn't take any more pictures. The others dropped by as well to help, though there wasn't much to do besides forcing Kai to go back to bed whenever he started wandering around and making sure he kept sipping at fluids and Peptol. I think Ray might have done better at that than me, though him and Max kept making me the delivery girl.

I wasn't stupid. I knew they were trying to make something happen between me and Kai, or thought Kai would appreciate it more. Thing was, I didn't care. It wasn't like it made any difference. No need to say why.

The day after Kai left Tyson's house, I went home early after throwing up in school. By the time I reached home I barely had the energy to close the door behind me, forget about going upstairs to my room. And since my mom was rarely home, the couch was as good as any bed.

Sleep was strange with this fever. I got up a few times to throw up, but my senses of my own motion and reality blurred with my dreams, which were incoherent at best. Colors, places, impressions and needs. I curled up as tight as I could, shivering under a layer of sweat, but somehow couldn't come up with the motivation or energy to get up and find a blanket. So, instead, I pushed myself back into the crevice of my couch, hoping it would somehow eat me. At least it would have been warm. Like a mouth. Perhaps being eaten wouldn't be so bad.

Then, between awake, asleep, and crossing a desert with red sand and blue skies, a blanket came down over me. I nearly wept in relief. It melded about me, gloriously heavy and soft.

"Where is your mom, Hillary?"

I answered the best I could. Thing was, I didn't know where she was. At work, of course, but sometimes her schedule changed, and sometimes she went to another city. A thought crossed my mind that I should have called her rather than just send a short "Got the stomach flu text, and I felt instantly guilty. Mother wasn't here a lot, yeah. But she still loved me. She was just a single parent. So busy.

Hard, cool arms pushed under me, unsettling my world. I thought I could smell the blanket. Plaid. Warm. A well used blanket. A well loved one, used for curling up while it stormed outside, like it did when Kai got sick.

Kai…Kai was here.

I opened my eyes, even though they ached as though someone had shoved a buttload of cotton balls behind them.

I saw gray hair and a strong, smooth neck. Then I saw the blue triangles on his cheeks. I watched my fingers touch one. Kai had never been in my house before. Weird.

"Why do you paint your face?"

I didn't realize I had asked it out loud until he spoke.

"Because I like how they look. Irritating my grandfather is a plus too."

My finger pad went up again and got sort of stuck on the bottom triangle. The makeup or paint or whatever it was didn't smear. It was like marker. How strange. But they did look good on him. Though I had once seen him without them, way back on a beach, with the pink surf jumping up about his feet as he ran.

I fell back into my soup of reality and dreams. Though being comfortable and warm at last deepened my sleep, giving the fragments of dreams time enough to meld together into something a tad more coherent. I'd see my mother, scolding me for having Kai in the house and letting him sleep in my bed, not believing me when I told her he'd never been there, just to be confused by cropping images of his sleeping face and those blue triangles tucked up close besides me, using his arm for a pillow, wrapped in a purple afghan I kept hanging on the foot of my bed. The next minute I was being blinded by bitbeasts, trying to see their shape but only getting flashes of Dragoon or Dranzer, just to be thrown off by random animals too ugly to be bit beasts. Then I'd be thrown into color again, onto deserts. There I'd be shaken awake to sunshine making squares on the ceiling and Kai, warm, wonderful Kai, wrapping cool things around my face and propping me up as he handed me bottle after bottle of sweet, cool drinks.

Except he didn't have his triangles. His triangles were gone.

And I would see him on the beach again. Except this time he was looking down at me and his eyes weren't wild as I had envisioned. They were calm and…soft. Too soft to be his. So soft it transformed his whole face till I saw a boy where the mature, brow wrinkled, life worn Kai use to be.

"Where is your mom, Hillary?"

I blinked hard, focusing. Wait a minute. I could see the undersides of my eyelids. And I could feel the rest of me, icky and gross with old sweat. At least I didn't hurt anymore.

I forced my eyes open to see, not Kai, but Tyson, who did not look pleased.

"Meh? What are you doing here?" my voice sounded awful and unused.

"Checking up on you since I haven't heard from you in three days," he said, and I blinked at the anger. "So, where's your mom?"

"Do you need her?" I asked, bemused. Three days?

Tyson gave me a look as though he thought I was stupid, but it was different from the ones he gave me when we were fighting or I had done something especially exasperating.

"She hasn't been here this whole time, has she?" he asked.

I groaned. I wasn't awake enough for this. And now that I thought about it, I was thirsty. So thirsty it hurt. "I guess not. How did you get in here?"

"Well you sure as hell didn't lock your door." Oh yeah, he was angry now. "Why didn't you call me? Call any of us? You could have died in here and no one would have known! If I had known…" he trailed off into muttered curses, running his hands down his face, then finally ended at a great heaving sigh. "Hil…don't do this again. Next time you get sick call someone, okay?"

"Okay." I had no problem with that. It wasn't that I hadn't wanted anyone around, I just hadn't thought of it. "I did text my mom when I got home."

"And she stayed at work?"

I groaned again and sat up, rubbing my eyes hard. They still ached a bit. We'd been over this before. "She's a single mom, Tyson, trying to live in the city. Besides, I think I just got what Kai had, and he lived."

"Only because he wasn't alone," Tyson snapped. But then he took a deep breath. "Okay. Whatever. I'm here now so what do you need?"

"A shower," I said. I felt nastier than I did after five days of rough camping.

Tyson had the mind to roll his eyes and not mention that he could help me bathe. It wouldn't have been a funny joke. "Okay, food wise then?"

"I thought you could only make sandwiches?"

"And rice balls. I can make some freaking beautiful rice balls."

"That sounds great."

He clapped his hands together. "Rice balls it is."

And with that, he was gone. I got up to the sound of him banging around in my kitchen, wondering if I cared if he made a complete wreck of it, and decided I didn't. I was too tired, and too relieved to not be nauseous or in pain anymore.

I slid my legs off the bed and my foot hit a plastic bottle. It rolled across the floor, flashing its fruity label as it went until it stopped against my dresser. I stared at it.

It was one of the bottles Kai had given me to drink in my dreams…or, whatever that had been.

I looked down at the foot of the bed where my purple afghan should have been, but found it draped over my feet instead. I never did that. I had a thing with not having too much weight on my feet while I was sleeping, as it made them feel like they were being bent in the wrong direction.

Smiling, and a bit too warm and fuzzy inside for safety, I picked up the bottle and carefully padded my way to the bathroom. And, since there was no chance of anyone seeing me, I ended up taking the bottle with me into the shower, where I curled up on the bottom and grinned to myself like the stupid, crushing, teenage girl I was.

It wasn't like anything was going to come of this, after all. So I could be weird and dream. Dreaming never hurt.


	5. Soup

5

Since my mom wasn't going to be back home for another two days, Tyson more or less coerced me back over to his house, whether I felt up to it or not. My fever had broken, but my appetite was still a bit dodgy as I had only managed to nibble away one of the rice balls he had made for me. It was still morning, so Max had yet to come over. Ray had a flight back to China the morning after Tyson's party (thus the reasoning behind said party), and Kai's appearance was usually more miss than hit. He wasn't one for hanging out, and even training he did alone.

Still, I found myself aching for him as I laid out on a blanket in a patch of sunshine on the porch. In the depths of the dojo I could hear Grandpa Granger instructing his new kendo students.

I still felt sick. My head didn't burst at the seams like it had, but it was still tender. The light didn't sting as long as my eyes were closed. The sunshine felt marvelous, though. A stray thought in my mind wondered if Kai had done okay after he was sick. I would have liked to have checked up on him. But if I had been that out-of-mind sick for three days, didn't that mean that Kai would have still been recovering himself when he came to take care of me? How did he even hear about that anyways?

A memory I hadn't been able to tell was dream or reality floated past, of Kai laying besides me with that purple afghan over him, fast asleep.

Even as I remembered, I fell into a dream. In it, Kai opened his eyes and very cautiously reached up to my face. I had plastic bottles clutched to my chest, but he didn't seem to pay any mind to the fact I was essentially clutching an armful of garbage. The left over droplets of drink had turned to crystals, small, bead-like, throwing rainbows over the walls of my room.

A touch on my forehead reeled me up from the dark of sleep. For a moment, I hung behind my closed eyelids, taking in the soft touch and wondering if I should just fall back down to the dream. So very, very sleepy.

My stomach made the decision for me. It hurt with hunger, and the hand had pulled back. I opened my eyes just as I heard something being set above my head.

The afternoon sun had passed over the house and someone had thrown a blanket over me to replace its warmth. Still, the naked blue of the sky behind my visitor made my eyes water.

Kai met my sleepy gaze, his hand pausing over another plastic bottle of the same drink I had found in my room. He pulled away.

"Think you can eat something?" he asked.

"Tyson made riceballs," I said.

"And you only ate one."

I found myself frowning, even as my heart rate sped up past my ears and face. A delirious sort of happiness had begun to spin my thoughts around.

When I didn't answer, he sighed through his nose and stood. I almost reached out to stop him, but I couldn't think of a reason for him to stay.

So he left, along with the happiness. I went to cursing myself. I was seventeen years old, I could take care of myself. I should have told him that—that I would eat when I felt like it, and that I was just fine. But even as I thought that, I took the drink he had left and sat up. It was a sort of light, fruity, un-caffeinated green tea health drink. I twisted it open and savored the taste. I wasn't a huge fan of green tea, but from then on out, I knew it would be labeled in my mind as the taste of Kai.

Sometime later, right before I managed to dreg up the motivation to go back inside and find something to do, the sliding door around the corner opened and shut. Kai reappeared, this time with a bowl of something in his hands, which he set softly in front of me as though afraid to make too much noise. The savory ginger scent of it made my mouth water. I reached for it, just to stop as Kai sat down on the porch as well.

"You're being awfully nice," I said, though my smile didn't seem to work right.

"Take it as a thank you for doing the same for me," he said. "And for purging Tyson's camera."

Now I smirked right. I wondered if Tyson had noticed yet that I had replaced all the pictures as well.

I took my first sip of noodle and broth and melted. The broth was simple, but rich, and the noodles went down easily.

"Did you make this?" I asked. I sure hope he hadn't. He didn't need any other reason to be perfect.

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"I didn't know you could cook." I took another long gulp. The heat ran all the way to my stomach and it felt glorious.

He shrugged again, not looking at me but somewhere around the pond of Tyson's garden. His blue triangles were back on again, and his sharp eyes gave his thoughtful look a level of intensity—as it usually did.

When I finished the noodle soup, he reached out for the bowl.

"Don't tell Tyson," he said.

"So he doesn't hound you for food?"

He nodded.

I crossed my heart. "Secret's safe with me." Then I hesitated. Another matter came to mind, one which I had been trying to ignore as I ate. My full stomach squirmed and my hands started to sweat.

Kai's observation skills had always been the envy of the team. As his eyes fell on my fidgeting hands, I hated it. But he didn't say anything. Just looked at me, waiting.

I looked away to the pond and found a early fallen leaf to watch. "Kai…why'd you come over to my house?"

"You were sick because of me."

"Yeah, but that was my own fault."

"I knew how bad it was."

Blood started creeping up my neck. "But how did you even know?"

Kai snorted, as though he found it funny I should ask. "Tyson."

Ah. Yes. He was in my class, after all, so he would have known I had left school early because I was sick.

"That must've been disgusting," I said at a lame attempt at conversation.

"Didn't I puke on you?"

"Close."

"Might as well have."

"Nah, it was-" I froze and twisted my head to him so fast, it popped. "Hold on, did I puke on you?"

He didn't meet my eye, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Just don't think about it anymore. It's over and done with." He scooted to the edge and planted his feet on the ground. "Still hungry?"

But now that I was looking at him again, I couldn't stop. He didn't look special by any means. Just a usual pair of his black, cargo jeans and a white shirt. But it was like I was seeing him for the first time, and the longer I looked, the more my chest seemed to swell. If I looked away, I wouldn't know what to do next. Probably escape back home to hug that stupid plastic bottle in the shower again and cry.

Kai gave his trademark frown and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What?" It was more of a growl than anything, and I thought maybe I could see a bit of pink crossing his nose.

"This is…still oddly nice of you," I managed to say.

He rolled his eyes and set his chin next to his shoulder. "I'm just returning the favor."

The hot swelling in my breast had started to burn. The words were at the tip of my tongue, waiting to be released. I wanted to grab hold of his wrist or the front of that too white shirt and pull him down to my mouth. I wanted to engulf him in my arms and legs, like some deranged human octopus. I wanted to cheer his name, do anything to push these feelings within me out into the open.

But then I remembered. This was Kai, handsome, aloof, mysterious, strong, passionate, determined, rich, and the definition of cool. Out of all the Bladebreakers, I knew him the least. And me? I was Hillary, bossy, loud, controlling, plain, unnecessary, and just getting over being deliriously sick and pukey. I hadn't even bothered running a brush through my hair before being dragged over here.

So, I dropped my gaze and clenched my hands.

"Thanks," I said.

He responded with his typical "Hn," and went back inside with the empty bowl.


	6. Recovery

6

And since a bowl of soup and a pint of unbuzzed green tea have a lot of water in them, I eventually had to bully my heavy, sore body up and waddle back into the house for a toilet. My head throbbed from the action, demanding that I go back to a horizontal position. Alas, the bladder would be heeded.

Whiz done, hands washed, I set out on my new mission to retrieve the blanket and find a new, softer place to go back to sleep, hopefully away from Granger traffic. The shouts of kendo practice had come to a close, which meant Tyson and Grandpa were out, about, and noisy as ever.

Strangely enough, however, it wasn't Tyson I met as I dragged my blanket back in, but Kai, holding a small bottle of what looked like pain medicine and more green tea.

"Getting cold?" he asked.

"Deck's hard," I said while my stomach did a jig and my mind flailed in dismay. Yay, Kai. Nuuuu, I'm a gross sicky mess.

But Kai just nodded and headed down the hall. Since I was heading that way anyways, I followed. He turned around the bend into the open dojo, now clear of students and practice mats. And since I wasn't going to pass up a chance to look at Kai more, embarrassed or not, I watched as he slid open a closet and lifted out a futon, which he unfolded in a corner. Once satisfied, he straightened, looked at me, and nodded towards it.

Oh gal, more heat. In my face, in my neck, in my freaking heaving _bosoms._

"Thanks," I muttered, making my way to the softness and trying very hard not to look at him. Even as I got me and my fluffy comforter settled, he set the bottle of medicine and the green tea next to me.

"How do you feel?" I found myself asking in some desperate attempt to stem the tide of 'oh my gosh, this is effing amazing.'

He did his confused little frown and his brow furrowed. As soon as it came, it vanished. "I'm fine."

"Weren't you still sick when you came to my house?"

"I was already through the worst of it."

It couldn't just be to return the favor. When was Kai a 'return favor' freak? But it couldn't be anything else.

"I'm sorry I…got you sick," he said suddenly, and so quietly it was almost a whisper. "I should have stayed home."

I perked up. "Why didn't you?" Then realizing that must have sounded accusing, "I mean, you're never one for parties anyways and you must not have been feeling good in the first place. Then it was cloudy and kind of chilly and all." Please tell me that wasn't babbling. That had been a lot of words. Or perhaps it just seemed like a lot of words because this was Kai I was talking to, and he measured his words out by the teaspoon.

He started to answer, then stopped, his gray eyes shivering on my own. After a breath, he looked to the side, as though to find the answer in the floorboards rather than my face. I reached for the green tea to hide my fidgeting hands.

"I…I came _because_ I didn't feel well."

The cap made a loud snap as I twisted it. "So you were, like, all delirious even then? Man, this creature's fevers are something else, aren't they? I hardly remember the past few days."

"No," he folded his hands together between his crouching knees. "I mean I wanted to, because I didn't feel well, be there. I…want to be around you when I'm not well."

I paused halfway from pouring the tea into my mouth and lowered my bottle. My heart had jerked painfully.

"Why?" I asked. "Do you live alone?"

"Well, more or less, but," he hesitated again, looking to the other side, hiding his expression behind his bangs. "It's reassuring being close. You're…" he gave a helpless little shrug and stood, but didn't walk away quite yet. The way he swung a hand from back to front and then to his hair in a nervous sort of jerk told me he wasn't quite ready to leave yet. He was waiting or lost as to what to do next, or even unsure of what he had even done.

It was the oddest thing I had ever seen him do, besides handing me a bowl of homemade soup. It was so obtuse to how Kai portrayed himself.

And I melted with adoration. Good gravy, did he have any freaking clue how hard he made it on me being so adorable? I wondered if I should let myself smile as wide as I did then. He did, after all, have a phenomenal amount of pride.

"Well," I said. "If you ever feel sick again, let me know. I'll be there."

His face jerked up towards me, and through his bangs I could see his gray eyes again, widened and maybe happy. His mouth curved into a little smile, the only kind he made besides the wide, condescending smirks.

And since being sick was not cute or romantic, just then, from the depths of the dojo (approximately down the hall from the bathroom), came the loud, air-cracking bark of the loudest retch I'd ever heard.

Both of us blanched.

"Tyson," we groaned.

"So much for forcing me over here to take care of me," I said, kicking off my blankets and picking up the medicine bottle.

"No, stay."

Another retch. I stuffed my fingers into my ears, my stomach making an uncomfortable, sympathetic turn.

"Don't tell me we're going to have to nurse him as well," I muttered.

The funny twitch of Kai's mouth as he leaned against the wall next to me made me wonder what he found so amusing about this situation.

"I am under no obligation," he said. "He has a fully capable parent around, took compromising pictures of me, drank my soup, and essentially kidnapped you the moment I was out. We're going back."

That stopped my brain against a cement wall. While he was out…? So he had been intending to come back? And he wanted me—wait, no, it did not sound like he wanted the sick, gross me all to himself. Though that might explain why he was over at Tyson's house at all when there was no party or training powwow to be had. I had left a note on the fridge for my mom telling her where I had gone in case she came home early and hadn't checked my text. She had done that.

As the retching continued, interspaced with sad little moans, Kai reached down and tugged me to my feet. His hand was warm and dry.

"I'll leave the medicine and tea here for him," he said at the look on my face, and cocked his ear up. "And here comes his grandfather now."

"You dying, little dude?" came a familiar, loud holler.

"Shut up, Grandpa!" Tyson shouted from behind the bathroom door.

Kai slid his hand into my own and pulled me out of the dojo to the hallway, where Grandpa Granger stood in concern before the closed bathroom door. "Gramps, I'm taking Hillary back home. She's still sick too. There's some medicine that helped me on the floor in the dojo."

Grandpa's eyebrows rose as his eyes fell on our hands. "Is her Mama gonna burn me alive for letting you?"

I observed, with great fascination, as Kai's ears turned pink. He didn't say anything, just scowled, every line of his nice shoulders and face expressing how insulting he found that comment.

Grandpa Granger smirked and shrugged. "Just look'n out for my favorite dudette. Keep it clean, K-man, you hear?"

"What are you—" Tyson broke off with another impossibly loud upchuck. That kid had a talent…or a disease.

"I swear," said Kai, sounding irritated. He pulled me round. "Come on."

And from there I more or less floated back home, even until the point I started getting nauseous again from all the walking I'd been doing again so Kai gave me a piggy back ride the rest of the way.

 **End. And I pray that it was every bit of what my patron needed. ^.^ Being sick sucks butt, after all. I hope you all enjoyed! Please leave a review to let me know what you think, for good or for bad.**


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